Drabble Dribbles
by JantoJones
Summary: <html><head></head>A series of Drabbles which all start life as part of the LJ Section VII 'A Little Drabble Do ya' Challenge.</html>
1. Tennis

"What on Earth were you thinking?" Mr Waverly shouted.

The Old Man rarely raised his voice, but Illya Kuryakin's latest escapade had angered him greatly. He could never have anticipated such an indiscretion; especially from a man like Kuryakin. The Russian sat opposite his boss; head hanging in shame. He hadn't meant it to happen. Not really. He'd just gotten caught up in the excitement.

"You only needed to stay in for the first round, to make contact with our courier." Waverly continued. "You weren't supposed to become the Wimbledon Men's Champion."

Illya simply smiled.


	2. Nothing Changes

When he'd left the land of his birth, he'd been Russian. Now, over fifty years later, he was Ukrainian. He still wasn't certain what his feelings were on that score, as he'd live more of his life in other countries than he had lived there. Back then, the world had been on a precipice, and along with his colleagues, he'd done all he could to protect the innocents of that world.

As he watched the news coming from Ukraine, and felt the ever building tensions between Kiev and Moscow, Illya Kuryakin wondered if there had been any point at all.


	3. Too Close

Napoleon Solo was generally a patient man. He could easily sit for hours on a stakeout, with minimal complaint, or spend days sitting in medical waiting for his partner to wake up. Today however, Napoleon Solo was not a patient man. Today, he was pacing the waiting room of a doctor's office, awaiting the results of a test he'd hoped he would never be involved in.

Finally the door opened and a happy face beamed at him. Unfortunately, from where he was standing, that could still mean it could either way.

"Negative," Marcia told him, with obvious relief.


	4. The Game

"I'm not in the mood for childish games Napoleon."

The agents were stuck in the middle of nowhere, having developed a flat tyre. Illya was mad at himself, as it was his car and he had failed to check the spare.

"Come on chum," Napoleon cajoled. "What else are we going to do while we wait for the breakdown truck?"

"We could discuss art, or literature, or even science."

"Just give it a go, you might enjoy it."

"Must it be that game?"

"Yes."

"Okay, it's your idea, you go first."

"I spy with my little eye . . ."


	5. Waiting

How many more times would he end up sitting here? Would this be the last time he watched over his partner, his friend, as he fought for life? Admittedly, waiting was a lot more comfortable since they had received the gift of the armchair, but that didn't make the many hours of waiting any easier. Would this be the time his partner's body finally surrendered to the inevitable? Or, would he make another miraculous recovery and live to fight another day and another foe?

It was still too soon for the answer. All he could do was wait and hope.


	6. Interrogation

Illya Kuryakin stood, arms folded, glaring icily at the man in the chair. After several minutes, the Russian spoke.

"I will discover the truth eventually," he said, with a hard edge to his voice. "You will suffer far less in the long run if you simply tell me what I want to know now."

He was met with a defiant silence.

"So be it. You can't say you were not warned," Illya stated, as he picked up a pair of scissors and a hand-finished Italian jacket.

"Okay, okay!" Napoleon hastily yelled, grabbing for his jacket. "I ate your danish."


	7. Thirty Seconds

Thirty seconds.

That's all the time there was between life and death.

Thirty seconds before the train ran over the tracks to which the unconscious U.N.C.L.E. agent was tied.

Illya Kuryakin had already cut most of the ropes holding Napoleon Solo to the rails. As he worked the knife against the final tether, he resolutely ignored the huge, oncoming locomotive.

Finally, Napoleon was free and Illya dragged him to safety with all of two seconds to spare. Illya lay on the ground and stared at the stars above. One of these days, thirty seconds was not going to be enough.


	8. Sacrifice

"Ready Tovarisch?"

Illya nodded.

Beyond the door, the agents heard screaming. The sound sent a shiver down the Russian's spine and he instinctively backed up to wall. He had no idea how he'd managed to get into this situation.

As the screaming died down, the door opened and a woman beckoned Illya out. From beyond the door they heard an announcement.

"I'm sure you'll all enjoy what we have for you next."

Illya followed the woman and soon after, the screaming resumed.

Solo adjusted his bow-tie satisfied that he'd gotten Illya involved in the U.N.C.L.E. 'Win a Date' Charity Auction.


	9. Anticipation

Ten -

The heart rate trebles.

Nine -

Breath quickens and becomes shallow.

Eight -

Pupils dilate with the exhilaration.

Seven -

Right thumb twitches as it hovers over the trigger switch.

Six –

The ghost of a smile comes to rest on his lips.

Five –

A quick glance round verifies their position is secure.

Four –

A brief mental check to reconfirm the placement of charges.

Three –

A long, deep breath to control his heat rate.

Two –

Eyes close in a slow blink.

One –

Thumb presses down.

BOOOOOOOM !

The ghost smile is usurped by a grin.

"Enjoy that, Tovarisch?"

"Da."


	10. Red or Blue (Hallowe'en Drabble)

Red or blue?

It was not a decision to be made lightly. It was one he'd faced many times, but each time the outcome was different. His hand wavered between the two options, while his tongue poked out from between his lips with the concentration. Which one should he choose this time?

Red or blue?

Red! Definitely red. He went for it, but then quickly withdrew his hand again. Maybe blue. Blue looked good. Yes, blue. But then again. . .

"For pity's sake Illya!" Napoleon snapped. "Hallowe'en will be over by the time you choose which candy to have."


	11. Rain

It had started raining the moment he'd received the news of his partner's disappearance, five days ago. Since then, it had been unrelenting, as though the heavens themselves couldn't bear the loss. He'd worked tirelessly in that time, trying to find any lead to the missing agent's location, but could find nothing. As he watched the water run down his apartment window, Illya wondered if Napoleon would ever been seen again. His contemplation was interrupted by his communicator.

"He's been found," an excited voice told him. "Napoleon is coming home."

The sky outside cleared and the sun began to shine.


	12. Gratitude

Head Nurse Maisie Redfearn had a spring in her step as she arrived for work. Today was the first day in two weeks they didn't have an irascible Russian occupying a bed. The Lord knew she admired the man, but he was a royal pain in the caboose when he was injured. Arriving at her office, she found a hamper of chocolates, wine and vodka. Maisie smiled at the words which were written on the card on top.

_For all the staff in Medical. I know I'm not an easy patient, but please know I'm grateful for you all. INK._


	13. Christmas Spirit

Illya Kuryakin stood back and admired his handiwork. It wasn't the tidiest thing in the world, nor was it the biggest, but that didn't matter. He'd bought it from a thrift store, along with all the necessary accoutrements and Illya couldn't believe how much that small act alone had filled him with cheer. Maybe it was true what Napoleon had said. It really did seem as though, once granted an entrance, the spirit of the season could thrive within anyone. As a finishing touch, the Russian placed small gifts for Napoleon, Mark and April beneath his newly decorated Christmas tree.


	14. Superheroes

Alexander Waverly laughed heartily as he watched his six year old grandson running around in the Superman costume Father Christmas had brought him. The boy had been scolded by his mother, several times, for climbing on to the dining room chairs and attempting to fly off them.

"Grandpa," he called over, as he was grounded yet again. "Are superheroes really real?"

The Old Man smiled as he thought about the agents under his command; people who went above and beyond to keep the world safe.

"Yes, my boy," he replied. "I can tell you absolutely, that there are real superheroes."


End file.
